The Sorceress
by Skie
Summary: Anyway, it's about a Red Moon House employee who seeks Surreal's help to change her life and discovers something more. Chp 9! I'm not dead! R&R!
1. The Proposal

The path to the Great Hall of Kaeleer was rougher than Raine expected. The carriage jounced and lurched at every turn, every dirt mound in the road. She could have ridden the winds, if she'd known how. But due to lack of education in Craft, she was reduced to his method of transportation.  
  
For the twentieth time she smoothed the creases from her brown velvet pants, clutching her Gray jewel in an effort to abate her nervousness. And, for the fiftieth time, she wondered what in Hell she was doing. She had worked in Red Moon houses since she was twelve, and now four years later, she believed her life was finally about to change. As one of the best whores in Terrielle, she had immigrated to Kaeleer a year ago on the condition that she would continue working houses for at least another five years. However, security had begun to lax and with a few months of careful planning she had made her escape. Now, Raine was leaving her old life behind and in search of something new. It was for this reason that she was going to the Great Hall of Kaeleer, to see the one name Surreal. The former house worker was well known in Terrielle, and had been somewhat of an inspiration to Raine. This was a woman who had been much in the same situation as herself, but had somehow risen above her station to become one of the most beloved of Witch herself. And now, Raine was hoping a similar miracle could be worked for her.  
  
The carriage jolted to a sudden halt and she was quick to dash out. Finally giving up on her pants, she turned and saw the ominous Hall spread out before her. Swallowing deeply, she faced the carriage driver.  
  
"Can you, ummm, you know, . . hang around? You know, just in case I have to. . . err. . .leave in a hurry?"  
  
The driver, a lean middle-aged man with a front tooth missing, looked her over thoughtfully. Then giving her the familiar leering look she was used to, he nodded that he would.  
  
Walking up to the gates, she was surprised when confronted by two guards.  
  
"State your name and business," the first guard, a short stoutly man, stated gruffly.  
  
"Oh, you mean like an appointment?" Raine asked, realizing how stupid she sounded after she said it.  
  
Both guards heaved dramatic sighs and the first guard answered, "If you don't have a scheduled appointment, we can take your name and the name of the person you wish to see, but we can't do more than that."  
  
"Oh," was the only response she could think of, and distinctly heard the second guard mutter 'tourists'. She was now forced to rely on her only weapon. . .lust. With hair of liquid fire, a figure that seemed shaped in a forge, and smoky green eyes, there were few men who would, or could, refuse her suggestions; however, she must have come across the most dickless men in the entire SaDiablo Hall, for she still was rebuffed when asked admission.  
  
"Okay, listen," Raine said, now out of options, "You have to let me in to see Surreal. My whole existence might depend on it! You can search me if you want to, but I'm sure that she's quite capable to protect herself."  
  
"I'm sorry lady," the second guard said, beginning to get irritated, "But my orders are to not let anyone in who doesn't have an appointment. I will mention you to the Lady Surreal if you want, but I must caution you that she's very busy-"  
  
"Oh nonsense!" came a strong clear voice behind the gates, "I haven't done anything of value in two weeks. Let me at least see this girl who wants to meet with me."  
  
Surreal, still beautiful if aged several years, stepped in front of the gates. Raine felt herself inhale sharply, for now that she was before her role model she w as suddenly rendered speechless.  
  
"See?" Surreal said pointedly, "she doesn't look like a threat, let her in, my orders."  
  
The gates were promptly opened and, taking one last look at the carriage, she quickly stepped inside.  
  
"Now," Surreal said, in one cursory glance giving Raine a head to toe evaluation, "What is it you wanted to tell me?"  
  
Finding her voice, the sixteen year old girl answered, "Well, actually, I was thinking that I could. . .if it's okay with you of course, speak with you in private?"  
  
"Of course," Surreal laughed, obviously amused and fairly curious, "Where are my manners? Won't you follow me?"  
  
Not believing her luck, Raine did as requested, following Surreal into the arched doorways of SaDiablo Hall. There were people of all races scurrying from one side of the aisle to the other, carrying objects the secluded girl had never seen before. Her neck ached as she craned her head to see everything and at the same time not losing sight of Surreal.  
  
Finally, she was pulled into a spacious room and motioned to take a seat. Wasting no time with small talk or the offering of drinks, Surreal asked, "So what's up?"  
  
Raine, once again becoming nervous, took up the habit of smoothing her permanetly creased pants. Without looking at her companion, she blurted out her whole life history with a rush, "My father is unknown, my mother died shortly after my Birthright ceremony, I have no memory of her at all. I was put into an orphanage, but I ran away at age twelve. I started doing. . .corner jobs, then you know, moving up to Red Moon houses. I harnessed my talent, became the best at what I did, and eventually moved to Kaeleer, where it was rumored there would be more opportunity. Finding here only what I wanted to leave behind, I escaped my contract and came to the Hall. Lady Surreal," her tone now became pleading, "you were once in the same predicament as I, and look where you are now! Do you think that perhaps there is something you can do for me here?"  
  
Surreal absorbed the whole story and was quiet for a long time afterwards. Raine was just beginning to wonder if her inspiration had heard her or not when Surreal finally replied, "The right thing to do," she began slowly, "would be to send you right back to the House where you came from. After all, you did violate a contract of immigration. However," Surreal hastily added seeing Raine's preparation to flee, "here at SaDiablo Hall we believe that everyone should have an opportunity to better themselves."  
  
Raine's mouth flew open, preparing to gush her thanks(to hide her relief) but Surreal continued, "Plus there's the fact that I'm not one to do the right thing. And, it just so happens I like you," she shrugged helplessly, "I don't know why, maybe it's your ambition, or our similar histories, or maybe it's simply your pure nerve. Nonetheless. . .what color jewel do you wear?"  
  
Raine hesitated at this point, unwilling to display the object that was her last link to a deceased mother. But then she figured she could trust Surreal, after all there was indeed a link between them, and she pulled out her Gray jewel which was framed in a crude leather thong around her neck.  
  
"Another surprise," Surreal laughed and she too, whipped out her Gray jewel, "We match! Though it is a surprise you've already made your Offering at such a young age."  
  
Raine, her heart lighter than it had been in years, said, "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Sure you do," Surreal grinned, "Remember? You were in a room for like a day, and then you got a different colored jewel, the Gray one?"  
  
Raine shook her head slowly from side to side, "I've just had this jewel my entire life,"  
  
Surreal's smile faded completely and her eyebrows knitted together in concentration, "but that would mean. . . Gray is your Birthright jewel?"  
  
"I suppose-"  
  
"But. . .but that's impossible!" Surreal stated, her eyes shooting wide in disbelief, "I mean, I'm not an expert, Janelle would know more on the subject, but even Daemon was Red. Unless. . .perhaps you've come here at exactly the right time."  
  
Surreal seemed to come to a resolution, but Raine took no heed. Queen Jaenelle, Surreal had mentioned, and Daemon Sadi, the Sadist! Both were known of extremely well in Terrielle and from what she had heard, the last thing she wanted to do was draw their attentions!  
  
"Come with me," Surreal leaped up, interrupting Raine's dark thoughts and grabbing her hand, "I'm taking you to Jaenelle. I think we have a position for you after all."  
  
"No!" Raine protested uselessly as she was rushed through a dizzing maze of hallways and tapestries, "P-please Lady," she stammered, "Th- they'll kill me!"  
  
This caught Surreal's attention just as the pair stopped in front of a gold-plated door.  
  
"What makes you say that?" she asked curiously.  
  
"They'll kill me because I'm Terriellian! That's what I've heard at least, that Witch destroyed almost half its population with her wrath. That she used Terriellian targets for her anger and now possesses a deep hatred for us!"  
  
Raine was near hysterics, but Surreal looked pissed. Turning to face Raine, she said, "I promise you that you've heard is a load of bull. Trust me, Jaenelle gives everyone a fair chance. Now come on, do you want to be something or not?"  
  
Not giving her a chance to answer, Surreal yanked her into the room.  
  
A circle of varied people looked up as Surreal entered, but Raine stared at her feet to avoid looking up at them. But her heard jerked to a snap when she heard Surreal announce formally, "My Lady Jaenelle, I think I've found you an apprentice." 


	2. Acceptance

Okay, I forgot to put these disclaimers or whatever in the story last time, so I'm doing it now. I do not own, nor seek to make profit on, the world or plotline of Bishop's Black Jewels Trilogy nor the characters who fulfill them. Happy now? Can I please continue w/ the story? Okay, good!  
  
* * * * *  
  
Raine stood speechless, unable to comprehend Surreal's announcement. Her mind weighed heavy with shock and despair, knowing that, inevitably, once Queen Jaenelle saw her she was going to die.  
  
But the voice that spoke didn't sound threatening or angry. Instead, Queen Jaenelle sounded oddly amused and replied, "Have you then Surreal? I didn't know you were one of those searching."  
  
"I wasn't" Surreal stated flatly, "until about five minutes ago."  
  
There was an awkward silence until Jaenelle said, "So. . .Are you going to let me see this would-be apprentice or not?"  
  
Surreal motioned Raine to step forward, which she reluctantly did. She then jerked her head up and her smoky green eyes blazed with fire. If she was going to die, she was going to do so standing tall. Fixing her gaze steadily on the people who surrounded her, Raine waited for her death.  
  
As she looked around at the occupants of the room, however, she had to admit that they didn't seem malicious, if they were a bit intimidating. At her far left was an imposing woman with spiked blonde hair. Her ice- chipped eyes regarded Raine coolly, and even though she apparently could not use her legs, a regal air surrounded her.  
  
Next to the icy queen, an Eryien stood! Before now, she had thought they only existed in children's stories; it was unbelievable to be looking one dead in the eye. Tall, dark, strong, his wings were fanned around Jaenelle's chair protectively, as if at any moment Raine might attempt an assassination.  
  
Sitting on Jaenelle's left was the demon-dead High Lord of Hell, Saetan. Raine's mouth went dry and she felt herself struggle to breathe. Her stare immediately faltered as the older man's eyes burned into her, their gaze almost painful.  
  
Queen Jaenelle herself almost brought Raine to her knees. With golden blonde hair that hid secrets, and sapphire eyes which spoke of haunts Raine could only imagine, she seemed an incarnate of imagination. Her strange eyes were studying Raine, a small twinkle of amusement in them. Though her attitude had not been an any way threatening, Raine shivered. There was a definite shield around this queen, a cold chilling presence that entered her, transforming her blood to ice.  
  
And finally on Jaenelle's right, content to stay in the shadows, was the Sadist. He was an almost exact copy of Saetan(who it was rumored was his father) and if the High Lord's eyes burned, Daemon Sadi's eyes were scorching. But it wasn't the heat of the gaze that made Raine have to gasp for air or dig her fingernail into her palm. In his eyes, there was the unspoken promise of torture, pleasure, enticement, enlightenment, pain, thrill, passion, rage, or any combination of the above. He wore this strange aura loosely, and Raine doubted he even know he had it. She looked back at him, her gaze colliding with his, not wanting to stare anymore but unable to look away. She thought to herself, "No wonder they call him the Seducer, he's pretty damn hot."  
  
Instant silence in the small room made Raine realize, with horror, that she had voice her embarrassing thought out loud. She saw Daemon's face storm with anger and she thought for sure at that point that she was going to die. But, to her complete amazement, everyone else laughed.  
  
"Well Bastard," the Eryien joked, "it seems your reputation precedes you, . . .again."  
  
"Thank you," Jaenelle joined in, "it's always an important quality in my apprentices that they think my Consort is. . . hot."  
  
"Err. . .yeah, about that," Raine stated, steering the conversation back around, "I mean, an apprenticeship, wow,. . . I'm honored, really, but wouldn't you want to save such a position for your children?"  
  
There wasn't any laughter at this suggestion, there wasn't even a sound. Catching Daemon's fire eyes swirling with suppressed rage, Raine knew she had said something wrong, again.  
  
"Strike two. . ." she thought silently, wondering why in Hell she was still alive. You were lucky if you survived the Sadist's wrath once, blessed if you survived it twice.  
  
"I don't think you'll have to worry about that," Jaenelle said crisply, "I trust Surreal's judgement, at least to give you a trial run, the position's yours if you want it."  
  
"Wait Jaenelle," the queen made of ice spoke, "don't you think this is a matter to take before your First Circle?"  
  
"I suppose," Jaenelle grimaced darkly, in that instant shedding Protocol like a cloak that had served its purpose, then said brightly, "Well Karla, you're all the First Circle I need, do you approve?"  
  
"I'd like to know why she's so deserving of this position first, before I make any decisions," the one named Karla spoke, her words coated with distaste.  
  
"Don't worry, I got this one covered," Surreal said, grasping Raine's shoulder. She began, "Now, I could tell you all about this girl's history, her origins as a whore and what not," Raine blushed crimson, and several eyebrows arched at this statement, "But Karla, I don't think you honestly give a damn. The clincher of this whole argument is that she wears Birthright Gray."  
  
Once again the eyebrows arched, and whispered conversation buzzed around her. Saetan leaned forward in his chair to get a better look at her, Jaenelle and Daemon were making impatient gestures at everything, and even the Eryien stood a little taller.  
  
"Well then, in this rare and unexpected situation, I guess the First Circle has no choice but to approve," Karla said with a nod, but still looking as if she disagreed with the whole thing.  
  
Jaenelle grinned like an eager child who had just discovered a new playmate, "Raine, it's now up to you. What I offer you is no life of privilege or special treatment. It's a life of hard work and dedication to protecting the honor of the Blood. Now I ask you, will you become my apprentice?"  
  
Without thinking or feeling, Raine let her ambition decide for her. And then she realized that it wasn't a decision at all. She had been determined to reach the top from the start, this was just a little sooner than she had expected. Almost as if some other force had taken over she felt herself respond, "I accept."  
  
"Excellent," Janelle grinned again, gripping Daemon's hand, "There will be a formal dinner at the Hall tonight, I will make the announcement then to make it official. Lucivar, will you show Raine to her room while I finish with Karla here?"  
  
And just like that she was dismissed. For Raine, her life had changed in a matter of minutes, but for Jaenelle it was just another thing on the agenda. She saw the Eryien move forward to escort her to a room, but elation soon died when she heard Daemon say, "Don't worry about it Prick, I'll take her."  
  
Shooting one last pleading glance at Surreal, Raine had no choice but to follow the Sadist out into the hallway. The two rounded corners, climbed stairs, Daemon making small talk as he led her through the hallways. He had taken a far off, dreamy look to his eyes, but Raine wasn't fooled. He was more alert now than he had been the whole time in the small room.  
  
"I just can't believe," he was saying as they rounded yet another corner, "that a girl with Birthright Gray had such a miserable upbringing. I mean, such power would definitely have been spotted in Terrielle, especially after Witch, so it's fairly odd how you ended up where you did."  
  
Raine was stunned. He didn't believe her at all! He didn't believe the suffering she had had to put up with for sixteen years. Rage flooded her, and she struggled to speak. Why would she lie? What possible purpose could there have been in feigning suffering and pain? It had almost killed her to go to SaDiablo Hall and beg people to take her in, she had had to swallow her pride.  
  
"Would you like to see the rest of my clothes?" she snapped angrily, each word being forced out with extreme difficulty, "I'm sure one look at those garments will convince you of what I was. Or perhaps you would like to see my fine bruises around my pelvis area, hmmm? Would you be satisfied then?"  
  
Daemon didn't seem surprised at this outburst and said, "Well, well, it seems that our shy apprentice has some fire to her after all. I see that there's more to her than the cowering shivering girl that followed Surreal to the conference room."  
  
"Yeah, what do you know, I'm full of surprises," she spat as they stopped in front of a door. Giving Daemon a mocking bow, she turned on her heel and entered her room, leaving the Sadist a great deal to think about. 


	3. The Announcement

"Well, you know what I heard," Meghana said with a grin, "I heard she used to work Red Moon houses."  
  
"No!" Luthvian recoiled in horror, her black wings rustling with distaste.  
  
"I don't know why you sound so disgusted sis," Daemonar smirked, "you'll probably end up there someday."  
  
Luthvian scowled in response, but didn't say anything. One day she would show him, but today wasn't that day.  
  
"Oh the poor girl," Morton mused thoughtfully, "she must have been so miserable."  
  
"Well, I think your all jumping to conclusions," Chlandra stated, waving her fork for emphasis, "All we have to go off of is what Meghana heard."  
  
They were at SaDiablo Hall and what was supposed to be just another routine dinner had instead turned into the announcement of Jaenelle's apprentice. The five people currently debating the apprentice's former status were the youngest present, as they were the descendents of Witch's first circle. Because this statement seemed to fit so well, the small group had earned the nickname 'the second generation'.  
  
Meghana, daughter of Morghann and Khary, was probably the most upset over having to attend this evening. It was well known she had wanted the apprenticeship for herself, and her amber eyes would continually shift to the chair on Jaenelle's right, where the apprentice would sit when announced. She was continually clasping her Birthright Green jewel, as if attaining comfort from within the stone.  
  
Daemonar was the oldest(and wearing Red, the strongest) of the second generation. He was the comic relief of the group; he was continually teasing some member of the group, his favorite being his sister. Luthvian, at 12, was the youngest member. She was an Opal jeweled witch with a short temper, her favorite victim of this temper being Daemonar.  
  
Morton, a sapphire jeweled warlord, was the son of Gabrielle and Chaosti. His lean tall figure and spiked silver hair clearly reflected the Dea al Mon ancestry, though his attitude did not. He was the laid back, cool, calm, collected, type; the one least likely to take Daemonar's teasing seriously.  
  
And lastly was Chlandra, adopted daughter of Karla. Karla had never married, but had taken the Birthright Green jeweled girl under her wing when her parents(who had been in Karla's service) had tragically died in a fire. Karla had been a mother figure ever since. It was well known, however, that she and Meghana didn't get along that well, and even now the two girls were shooting ugly glances at each other across the table.  
  
"Well, whatever she is, I'll get to knock her down in the dirt tomorrow. Dad shays she'll have to start weapons training immediately," Luthvian stated, excited at the prospect of beating someone new in the sword.  
  
"We'll find out soon enough," Meghana said sourly crossing her arm across her chest, "It looks as if the girl is about to be announced."  
  
Jaenelle had risen to her feet, and was motioning for silence which she quickly got.  
  
"Friends, honored guests, and politicians," she began with a sly smile, "As you know, this chair on my right has been empty for far too long. . .event though I was surrounded by exceptional youths," she shot a glance at the second generation, "however, I believe I have found the girl who will become my heir, my apprentice. So without further ado, I introduce to you Raine, Witch's heir!"  
  
The double doors behind Jaenelle were opened and everyone got their first look at Witch's apprentice. Raine stepped through smoothly, and her appearance made everyone's jaw drop. Clothed in a short, tight dress that left nothing to the imagination, with tall red heels to match, she obviously had belonged to a House. Shooting Daemon an 'I told you so' look, she bowed to Jaenelle(the back of her dress rising a few more inches) and took her seat. Meghana shot a horrified Chlandra a superior look, her mouth twisting into a bitter smile.  
  
"You're going to knock her in the dirt tomorrow?" Daemonar asked his sister.  
  
Luthvian nodded, unable to respond.  
  
"You're so damn lucky," he responded, craning his neck to get a better look.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Daemon," Jaenelle reprimanded sharply, catching him in the act of shooting her apprentice a dirty look, "Why are you being so childish?"  
  
"Because," he said coolly, "I don't trust a strong witch that simply marches into SaDiablo Hall and becomes, in an instant, the heir to everything you stand for. Maybe I'm being overprotective, but 1500 years of experience shouldn't go unheeded."  
  
"Do you think I made a mistake then?" Jaenelle replied, her eyes narrowing with concentration, "I mean, her appearance certainly could reflect more. . .pride in herself, but other than that. . ."  
  
"You know I would support you in anything," her said sincerely," And I don't think you made a bad choice persay. . .What that-?"  
  
His statement cut off as he felt something solid hit the side of his head. Looking at the floor, he saw a small pea rolling on the ground. Swiveling around angrily, he glared over Jaenelle's shoulder at Raine, who was hurriedly burying her remaining peas under her potatoes. Feeling Daemon's gaze on her, she looked up and shrugged, giving him an innocent smile.  
  
Grinding his teeth irritably, daemon knew Raine had gotten the better of him again.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Raine stumbled to the door of her room, slightly proud of the fact that she'd only gotten lost twice in the maze that was the Hall. Looking forward to simply collapsing on her bed, she was surprised to see a short witch already waiting for her. Rising, the woman that had gray streaks in her tangled black hair said, "Greetings Raine, Lady of the Light," she paused, then continued, "But you are not of the Light are you? However you are not a Daughter of Darkness either, so that is good," the witch mused, "You hang at a knife's edge, one motion to either side will determine the fortunes of all."  
  
Raine stood speechless, unable to move or think, but the woman saved her the trouble, "I wove a web for you, would you care to hear the contents of the weaving?"  
  
Finally, the young girl found her voice.  
  
"Do I know you?" she asked softly.  
  
The witch laughed in delight, a laugh ringing with the madness of the Twisted Kingdom.  
  
"Indeed. Once, in my future, in your past, we did meet, but you do not remember me I think," another pause, "I am Tersa, Tersa the Weaver."  
  
It was Raine's turn to pause, trying to comprehend anything this broken witch was saying to her. Giving up, she asked, "you wove a web for me?"  
  
"Yes, you would want to hear what it spoke of?"  
  
"Very much so."  
  
Tersa took on a faraway look, her voice changing dramatically as she spoke, "Darkness and Light surround you, each trying to place a claim. A decision of immense importance waits for you, the Equilibrium is failing. Will you be Raine the Savior, or the Tyrant? The Wise? The Purifier? The Tainted? Will you rule a kingdom of roses or thorns? On one side all fear you and one loves you. and on the other, all love you and one fears you. Is it to be justice or ambition? Your web is of questions, no answers. But you do bring the attention of the Dark here child, evil follows you to Kaeleer; you bring danger to us all."  
  
"You saw all this?" Raine demanded, "what does it mean?"  
  
"I am a Weaver," Tersa said stiffly, "not an Interpreter. All I know is that the webs are never wrong, but the ones who fulfill them sometimes are."  
  
The apprentice was stung by Tersa's words, without quite knowing why. Her eyes followed the broken witch to the door, but she turned around arubtly at the last minute.  
  
"One more thing," Tersa said, her eyes showing signs of slipping into madness.  
  
"Yes?" Raine asked weakly.  
  
"Welcome to the Great Hall," she grinned, and with a bob of the head, left the room. 


	4. Of Swordplay and Craft

A/N: Just want to say thank-you to all those who've reviewed, I'm always interested in what you have to say. And to all of you who read and don't review(and if you're reading this you know who you are!!!) you're not going to get the cool. . . .err. . .pair of socks I'm sending out to Sparkles- Chan and Rachel!(not really you guys, but they don't know that. Shhh!!!!!!!) Okay, that's enough incessant rambling on my part, on with the story.  
  
Oh! And if you value your sanity and are passing through or live in a suburb of Chicago, don't drink the water!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
1 Chapter 4  
  
"Sorry I'm late," Raine apologized hurriedly as she ran into the training arena, clothed in the practice gear that had been laid out for her, "I slept in."  
  
"It's almost noon," Lucivar, whom Raine recognized as the Eryien that had been in Jaenelle's conference room yesterday, growled, "If it happens again you'll be running laps for a week."  
  
Raine swallowed deeply but was saved from feeling too intimidated by movement out from the corner of her eye.  
  
"Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful!" she thought darkly, "Why does HE have to be here?"  
  
Daemon Sadi was sitting on the ground sipping a drink. Making eye contact, he smiled and waved pleasantly, adjusting his position to make himself more comfortable.  
  
"Oh great," Raine's thoughts turned more thunderous, "now he's going to watch me get my ass kicked by a bunch of preteens."  
  
"Anyway," Lucivar interrupted her thoughts, "To begin, Luthvian is going to put you through a light sparring exercise to see what you can do."  
  
"Great. . .terrific," she smiled, her bowels turning to water, and followed the Eryien to the training pits. It was here that Raine met Luthvian, and instantly she knew that in a few years the young girl would be almost as intimidating as her father. Even now, she was fixing Raine with a menacing look as she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. It was clear Luthvian expected to win, even though she heard Lucivar mutter to his daughter about how she wasn't allowed to fly against such a raw newcomer.  
  
Selecting a practice sword that was weighted properly for her, Raine slowly walked into the practice circle and took up what she assumed was a fighting stance.  
  
Without warning, Luthvian attacked. And then, as Raine instinctively dodged the blow, something happened she could never have expected. Somehow, incredibly, she knew what to do. She had images of herself fighting, yet they were someone else's memories. She felt anxiety, and her vision distorted as she saw her opponent, who no longer seemed to be Luthvian, loom before her. No longer caring how she had gotten sword skills, all Raine knew was that her enemy must be defeated. With a vicious onslaught of offensive thrusts, her opponent was quickly at her feet. Raising her sword to deliver the killing blow, she was surprised when her wrist was caught over her head, preventing her from bringing the sword down. Snarling, she twisted, bringing her wrist down in a move that usually put people on their backs. However, her new opponent was too skilled for such a basic maneuver. He drew his sword, and in three quick strokes, she was the one on the ground. Struggling to pull herself up, Raine realized she was herself again.  
  
"Well done," Lucivar stated as he sheathed his sword, "if I hadn't interfered, I believe Luthvian would be dead by now. Tell me, where did you learn moves like that?"  
  
"I honestly don't know," Raine answered as she coughed up arena sand. Again, her eyes caught Daemon's in a stare, but this time she was the first to look away. What did he think of her now, he certainly had less reason to believe her and her history. She realized then how hopelessly futile it was that anyone would believe her. But it was the truth!  
  
Lucivar seemed not to notice her internal struggle, for he was circling her and mutter so softly, Raine doubted she was meant to hear him.  
  
"Fights hard, fast, furious," he was saying, continuing his spherical pacing, "Ideal fighting for an ambush, or even against armies. A stance that suggest going for the quick kill, because there'll be another enemy just as quickly. But I wonder. . ." he trailed of thoughtfully, "Daemonar! Get over here!"  
  
A tall Eryien stalked over, his face covered in sweat from practice.  
  
"What's up Prick?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face.  
  
"Watch your language boyo," he growled, "you're not allowed to call me that. I want you to run through with Raine here, just to see how she does against a more experience fighter, her style reflects the absence of such opposition."  
  
"A chick?" he asked incredulously, then saw Raine," Oh yes, I remember. Jaenelle's apprentice. Well this shouldn't take too long."  
  
Back in the pits, Raine and Daemonar warily circled one another. Raine had lost her memories, but she still had the talent they had brought.  
  
Lunging suddenly, she again went for the quick kill. Daemonar parried cleanly under her fast and furious attack at first, but after awhile his strokes became clumsier and less steady. Still, however, he remained in a defensive position, looking for the hole in the other's offense that would give him the victory. He found it, and within a few number of moves, Raine again found herself on the ground.  
  
"Damn it!" she swore, picking herself up, and oddly enough, grinned.  
  
"Well there you have it," Lucivar said, "You definitely need to work more on your defense. But you're good, there's no denying that. You'll train with the boyos, the one in Daemonar's group.  
  
"Well, well," Daemonar grinned as Lucivar walked away, "You are full of surprises."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"You're late," Jaenelle said with an air of finality as Raine entered Witch's study later that day.  
  
"I know, I know!" she said, exasperated, "I've been running late all day. See it all started when-"  
  
"no excuses," Jaenelle interrupted, "Just results."  
  
"Yes, my Lady," she mumbled sullenly.  
  
"Now let's begin," Witch stated, "First, what do you already know?"  
  
"Not much, actually. Just basic Craft and some hearth-Craft but nothing beyond that."  
  
"That's all?"  
  
"Well, there aren't exactly strong witches in Red Moon Houses, Lady," Raine replied, "And those that are are in no condition to teach."  
  
"I see," Jaenelle apologized thoughtfully, "I often forget the . . .conditions of Terrielle. But another thing that surprises me is that you also don't express any talents of being a Black Widow or a Healer."  
  
"Sorry," she mumbled.  
  
"No, no it's okay," Jaenelle sighed, "After all you're not Witch."  
  
"No," Raine said sadly, "I guess not."  
  
* * * * *  
  
For the second day in a row, Raine crawled into her room, thinking only of sleep. Sword training had physically taken its toll on her and Craft had been mentally draining. But, in the core of her soul, Raine had to admit she was still tingling from the power Jaenelle had shown her, the power she herself might one day wield over others.  
  
Allowing herself a little jolt of excitement, Raine opened the door to her room and saw two people waiting for her.  
  
"This better not become a habit," she thought irritably as the two people rose to greet her.  
  
"Sorry if we've bothered you," said a short pale girl with a Galacian accent, "We just wanted to formally introduce ourselves and since we're leaving tomorrow we wanted to make sure we did this."  
  
"After all," said the tall man of Dea al Mon heritage, "Anyone that captivates the attentions of Surreal is quite the effort."  
  
"Indeed," Raine laughed, "I'm Raine-No subtitles, no last names, just Raine."  
  
"Or at least Lady Raine now, being Lady Jaenelle's apprentice," the silver-haired boyo smiled, "I'm Morton of the Dea al Mon."  
  
"And I'm Chlandra of Glacia."  
  
"A pleasure," Raine said as she shook hands with both of them, 'I've now met Luthvian and Daemonar, whose okay once he stops being arrogant."  
  
"That's one thing we agree on," Chlandra laughed and even Morton smiled.  
  
"Now I've met you two," Raine continued, "But I thought there was one more. . . "  
  
"Meghana," Morton filled in for her, starting to look uncomfortable, "Well you see she's-"  
  
"Right here," said a tall girl with red hair that strode into the room. Positioning herself in front of Raine, she said, "I am Meghana."  
  
When she offered no territory, or last name, Raine supplied "I am-"  
  
"Yes, yes, everyone knows who you are," she sniffed, then began circling her like Lucivar had done, except with more malicious intent.  
  
"Well, other than the fact that you wear the Gray, I can't see what's so special about you."  
  
Raine's temper flared and she opened her mouth preparing to give the girl exactly what she deserved when Meghana continued, "Be careful what you say, Lady Raine. I just overheard Jaenelle talking with Saetan on how disappointed she was about your previous education. It seems likely she will drop you. And if you offend me, I promise that when you are officially cast from the Hall, as future Queen, I will see that you are sent back to where you came from."  
  
"As I recall," Raine spat through gritted teeth, "Your kingdom yielded to Janelle, and when I inherit her position, I'll see to it that you're the one on the street."  
  
Meghana, far from being threatened, simply laughed.  
  
"Obviously Jaenelle hasn't given you any lessons in Protocol. So allow me the honor to give you your first lesson," she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt, "Queens don't yield to whores."  
  
She left then with a swirl of her cloak, before Raine could react. Her rage swirled to the breaking point and she had to grip her hands together to prevent herself from chasing Meghana down and slapping the snob.  
  
"She certainly thinks very highly of herself," was what she said out loud.  
  
"Well, that's two things we agree on," Chlandra grinned sympathetically. 


	5. A Strange Meeting

"Well, I think that's enough for today," Saetan, High Lord of Hell, said tiredly, rubbing his temples, "You're dismissed."  
  
"Same time tomorrow?" Raine asked as she gathered her books.  
  
"Yes," he sighed, "I'll have to see you again tomorrow."  
  
"Ohhh Mother Night! I think I just got burned by the High Lord of Hell. . .err. . .no pun intended."  
  
"None taken," he said graciously, motioning towards the door.  
  
"Right! I'm gone," she hastily added and all but ran into the hallway.  
  
"And try to be on time!" he yelled at her departing figure as her shadow disappeared down the hall.  
  
"So. . .how did it go?" Jaenelle asked as she entered the study and took the chair that had previously been occupied by her apprentice.  
  
"Remind me again why I'm doing this?"  
  
"Because," Jaenelle smiled, "we want her to be educated, and you have the best mind I can think of, so naturally I fused the two together. I didn't think she'd be that bad though."  
  
"Actually, it's not that she's bad, just tiring. She's very intelligent, though I've only had a few hours discussion with her. She possesses a sharp mind."  
  
"And what did you study?"  
  
"History, philosophy, and political science," he replied, his tone becoming reflective, "Your protégé is quite eager to learn the history of Kaeleer as she knows absolutely nothing on the subject. Philosophy. . .well, she's only interested in forming her own theories. That's a habit she need to be broken of if she is to be able to speak intelligently," he paused once more as if collecting his thoughts and then brought his eyes level with Jaenelle's ," But one subject she certainly excels at is political science. With the knowledge she does posses, Raine can weave word traps as eloquently as she avoids them. Her mind just simply seems to understand the underlying meaning of words," he shrugged helplessly, "Words don't really explain it, you have to see it for yourself. Her eyes just light up and you can almost hear the gears turning in her mind. When her head is a little more filled and her language cleaned up, I shall truly love to see her in debate," Saetan finished, his voice still reflecting wonder, then added, "She is probably one of the most interesting people to discuss issues with. She's old enough to talk with experience, but young enough to think she can change the world."  
  
Jaenelle gave a hint of a smile at that last statement and said, "Who would have thought? My apprentice. . .a politician."  
  
"you would have made a good politician," Saetan reminded her softly, "You had the passion, and the mind for it."  
  
Janelle grimaced, and when she again looked at her mentor, her eyes again held the old pain.  
  
"Perhaps," she replied quietly, "But I think I've changed the world enough."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"It hasss been a long time sssince you've visssited me, High Lord," Draca said pointedly without looking up from the book she was reading.  
  
"The time of Witch is over," Saetan's reply came smoothly, "The need to visit the Keep's library has diminished."  
  
"Even to sssee old friendsss?" she asked with a knowing smile.  
  
Saetan pursed his lips together to keep from laughing. He and Draca might have been a lot of things, but friends would be stretching it.  
  
"But with the ending of Witch's power," Saetan quickly changed the subject, "I would have thought you'd move on from this position. Take up some young witch or warlord to follow you as librarian, then move into some blissful retirement."  
  
"Ssso eager to be rid of me?" Draca smiled coyly, "The timesss may be better, but I believe the want for knowledge never diesss. Asss long asss that staysss true, I will alwaysss be at the Keep. And it mussst be true ssstill, for that isss why you are here, High Lord?"  
  
"To see Lorn, actually," Saetan answered, "I have to question him on something . . .odd. Someone, more precisely, that's peaked my curiosity."  
  
"Jaenelle'sss apprentice?" Draca inquired, and the High Lord knew better than to ask how she knew, "Indeed. That one isss quite interesssting," she trailed off then jerked alert when she remembered that there was still company, "One moment please."  
  
* * * * *  
  
He was admitted in, and always the sight of Lorn took his breath away. Shiny scales covered the impressive reptilian body where, at the head, the eyes that burned with the flames that had forged the world. As the High Lord's gaze clashed with those intense eyes, he was suddenly struck with the thought of what Lorn would look like in human form, the form Draca continually used. For how could anyone that looked upon those eyes think they were normal?  
  
*Greetings Saetan, High Lord of Hell* Lorn greeted, rearing his massive head to get a better look at his audience *What is it you have come to discuss with me?*  
  
*Very little, thankfully* he replied, rocking slowly on his feet *there has long been peace in Kaeleer, time are good. Finally, everyone at the Hall knows happiness*  
  
*And yet, you believe a stone has been thrown, causing ripples in this pond of peace* Lorn said *Otherwise you would not have come*  
  
*Yes* Saetan admitted * Though I would not call her a disturber of the peace just yet. There are simply some things about her I find unusual, and I came to see if you might have the answers *  
  
*Continue* Lorn prodded gently  
  
* Continue? Where do I begin?* he sent the mental equivalent of a harsh laugh * She wears Birthright Gray, fights as well as boyos who've been training for years, and has an intriguing yet cunning mind when, to be honest, she should not posses any of these things.* he shook his head as if arguing with himself * I'd like to dismiss it as coincidence but I just can't believe that.*  
  
* Of course not.* Lorn stated * You are intelligent enough to know the difference between coincidence and fate*  
  
* That's what I was afraid of*  
  
*Why?*  
  
* Because look at what fate has done to us!* Saetan bellowed. He rarely lost his temper but now was one of those times * The worst things imaginable have happened because of our fates. Tersa ended up in the Twisted Kingdom because of her fate, and Daemon suffered beyond imagination because of his! Jaenelle went through the horrors of Briarwood as a direct result of who she was! The fates have not been very kind to us and . . .* he trailed of trying to find the courage to continue * And I would see no more suffering in my life.*  
  
Saetan was aware his last statement came out more as a plea, but thankfully, Lorn took no notice. Regaining composure, he said * Tell me it's over. Tell me that the time of Witch is over.*  
  
*Oh yes* Lorn remarked mildly *Witch's time has ended.*  
  
Somehow that wasn't as reassuring as he had expected. Saetan knew the dragon was hiding something from him, something dark yet enormously important. He knew Lorn would tell him, if he asked, but he didn't. He convinced himself that he was imagining it, after all, there couldn't be anything after Witch and since that time was over there could no longer be any danger.  
  
* Well that's all I wanted to know* the High Lord said preparing to leave.  
  
Turning away, he heard Lorn say * The girl, however, needs protection. I will offer it to you, if you want it*  
  
This caught him off guard, but he replied * Well, I believe being in the company of the strongest jeweled witches in warlords is protection enough from whatever might attack her, but I came here to get your advice, so I will accept whatever help you might give*  
  
He walked forward, expecting it in the shape of a charm, token, or spell. He was expecting anything except Lorn's answer * I am sending it in the form of a kai' tori.*  
  
The kai' tori were a race of dragons off the Fyreborn Islands. They were the smallest race, but fierce and loyal to those they sought fit to align themselves with.  
  
*You can't possibly do this!* Saetan answered, stunned * To protect someone requires equal acceptance on both sides. A dragon, any dragon, is too independent and strong-willed to stand by the side of a witch. This is madness!*  
  
*Until you breathe fire, Saetan Daemon SaDiablo, do not assume to know what a dragon will and will not do* Lorn reprimanded *Trust me, when I mention the assignment to the particular kai' tori I have in mind, it would be abuse to keep him away.*  
  
Saetan stood speechless, unable to refute Lorn's reply, but unwilling to accept it as well. Finally he send a barely audible spear- thread *Very well. I expect we will see it soon then.*  
  
Without another word, the High Lord of Hell left Lorn's chamber wondering how to tell Mrs. Beale that they would be entertaining the company of a dragon. 


	6. Torsh

A/N: Alright when I originally came up with the idea for this story I had the beginning, middle, and end plotted from the start. But something I've realized is that I don't really know what to do for the transition periods; the period from beginning to middle and then middle to end. So now that I'm almost at that point, it might be awhile since I post again due to a combo of school, lack of ideas, and soon ACT prep classes. But there are about three people reading this anyway, so yeah. . .there's no rush.  
  
Disclaimer: Oh, in case you're wondering, I still don't own anything having to do with the creation of the Black Jewels Trilogy or Bishop-related things.  
  
Awakening from a pleasant dream, Raine wished she could linger in bed and reflect on what she had seen. But Lucivar would be displeased if she was late again. However, even the thought of her gruff trainer wasn't enough to dampen her spirits today. It had been two weeks since her abrupt arrival at the hall, and finally, today, she was going to do something besides training, Craft, and study.  
  
Chlandra had invited her to go riding in Glacia, and it was something Raine had been looking forward to since she had suggested it. She had never been riding before, and the experience should prove interesting.  
  
Dressing hurriedly, she ran down the hallways to the kitchens, hoping to swipe some real food. Lucivar had put her on a strict Eryien warrior diet, insisting that it was a necessary part of her training, and she hadn't eaten anything decent since.  
  
Tiptoeing inside, Raine immediately smelt the pastries that Mrs. Beale had prepared for breakfast. Waiting until the plump woman was out of sight, Raine quietly slipped over to the platter laden down with sweets. Grabbing her breakfast, she raised the cream-coated flaky treat victoriously, preparing to sink her teeth into it.  
  
"Hey!" she spun around angrily as it was snatched from her hand, "What do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Keeping you in line," Mrs. Beale replied, shoving half a grapefruit into her hands, "You should know by now that I see everything that happens in my kitchens."  
  
"But Mrs. Beale," Raine protested in a wheedling tone, "I'm a young girl, this diet was made for strong Eryien warriors. Look at me, I'm practically skin and bones."  
  
The cook shot Raine a crude glance and said, "You know, I always said that putting young girls on a diet of any sort was unhealthy," she agreed handing her back her pastry, "but if Prince Yaslana hears about this, you're taking full responsibility."  
  
"Done!" Raine agreed quickly and tore into her treat. Swallowing almost without tasting she asked, "Who's Prince Yaslana?"  
  
"Lucivar," Mrs. Beale replied absentmindedly, already something else on her mind.  
  
Raine tried to picture her no-nonsense weapons teacher as some haughty warlord prince and failed miserably, causing her to dissolve into a fit of giggles.  
  
"Good morning Raine," said an amused voice behind her. Turning around, licking cream off her top lip, she saw Saetan.  
  
"Shouldn't you be having a grapefruit?" he continued mildly, ignoring her futile attempts to hide her sugary breakfast.  
  
"Ummm. . .yeah, you see it's the funniest thing-"  
  
"Enough," the High Lord sighed, holding his hand up for silence, "I took the chance that you'd forgotten there was early practice today-"  
  
"What?!!!" Raine shrieked, preparing to leave, but again Saetan put up his hand to stop her.  
  
"Don't worry about it. Lucivar gave you permission to be late," Raine's eyebrow arched at that statement but the High Lord continued, "There's someone you have to meet."  
  
Mrs. Beale shot Saetan a dark glance at that statement, but he chose to ignore her. Without a word, she followed him out of the kitchens and outside. Finding it odd that her guest hadn't been invited inside, Raine nonetheless followed Saetan around a corner. . . and screamed louder than she had ever screamed in her entire life.  
  
Standing before her was a dragon, a kai' tori to be exact. But that didn't mean he was small, at her full height Raine only came to his shoulder. Rising to stand on all fours, he was truly an impressive sight. The kai' tori gleamed a fiery red from the thick layer of scales covering his body. A long, elegant neck supported a finely sculpted head where eyes that burned with intelligence studied Raine curiously. Occasionally, wisps of smoke escaped his nostrils; evidence of the fire-breathing power that lay in the organs of the dragon. Looking at him, Raine became so terrified that she found it difficult to breathe.  
  
* My* the kai' tori remarked thoughtfully* you humans, for being so small, sure can scream*  
  
Raine stood dumb, unable to comprehend what was happening. She realized that the Kindred was talking to her, and she struggled to remember what Jaenelle had said about communicating with them. Finally remembering, she sent a tentative spear thread * Umm. . .hi. . . .I'm Raine*  
  
* Then you're the one I'm looking for* the kai' tori responded, sounding relieved *I've come to protect you*  
  
Raine compressed her lips into a stern line and answered, *Protect me? Why would I need it, especially from such a creature as yourself? *  
  
*You need it more than you think * was the reply* There are foes out there that you can not imagine, maybe even from within the turmoils of your soul. I'm here to prevent you from doing anything stupid, as well as lay waste to whatever outside influences may harm you.*  
  
* I hate to tell you this,* Raine said bitterly *But you're a couple of years late.*  
  
The kai' tori snorted flame, smoke billowing from his huge nostrils, a clear sign of his displeasure.  
  
* Sorry!* Raine quickly amended *I didn't mean it the way it came out. Just don't fry or impale me with one of those claws.*  
  
*She certainly has a mouth on her * the dragon stated to Saetan *Is she always like this? *  
  
*Worse * was the reply, then opening up the conversation to Raine, he said * Well, it looks like you two have some bonding to do, so I will take my leave. Remember, Raine, you have Craft in exactly one hour. . .and will you PLEASE try to be on time?*  
  
* Wait, wait, wait!* she protested *We're not done yet. I haven't agreed to anything- *  
  
*The situation has long passed outside your scope of control. * was all the High Lord would say, then, silent as shadow, he walked away.  
  
*So. . .* Raine said, staring down at her feet *Do you have a name? Or something to call you by? *  
  
*Yes, I'm called Torsh. It means 'Flame' in your tongue, or something very close to that *  
  
*I see. . .so what are your hobbies? *  
  
*Oh you know, the usual. * Torsh said, lying down to make himself more comfortable *Long romantic walks on the beach, candlelight dinners, getting caught in the rain. . . *  
  
* Really?*  
  
*No.*  
  
*Oh, * then suddenly Raine laughed *You know, I think this whole partnership thing could work out between us. *  
  
*That's the intention * Torsh responded yawning, closing his yellow, lamplike eyes *So what do you do? *  
  
*Well, today I'm going to visit Chlandra of Glacia. I'm really excited, it's really my first social event since I got here. *  
  
The kai' tori growled and said, * Glacia? But it's cold up there. Can't you just invite her here and save me the trip?*  
  
Raine was horror struck and quickly answered, *Well, what are you worried about? You're not coming along. That would be a disaster *  
  
*Of course I am * answered Torsh *What's the point of being a protector if I have to stay at the Hall the entire time? *  
  
*Look * Raine said evenly, trying to control her temper * I really need this to go well. Chlandra seems like a pretty nice girl, and I'd like to become friends with her. But I don't think that will go over very well if I show up at her doorstep with a dragon in tow!*  
  
* You worry too much* Torsh replied lazily * I can go unseen, if I wish, you just need to have a little faith.*  
  
Raine somehow doubted this was true but apparently she didn't have a choice in the matter. Sighing, she glanced at the sun and realized that she'd better start moving for Craft lessons.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Wow! That was amazing!" Jaenelle's apprentice grinned as she pulled back the reins to her mount, Stormchaser, a Purple Dusk jeweled warlord.  
  
"Yeah!" Chlandra agreed, pulling in rein beside her with her mount, Dreamweaver, "Cantering for the first time gives you such a thrill! It's just pure. . ."  
  
"Exhilaration?" Raine supplied for her, causing both girls to laugh in delight.  
  
This ride had gone better than Raine had expected it too. She really had gotten the gist of it, and, true to his word, neither she nor Chlandra had seen any sign of Torsh.  
  
"Oh hey," Chlandra pointed, "Look who's over there."  
  
Raine looked over where her friend pointed and groaned. Just when things had been going so well, he had to show up. Apparently, Daemon spotted them too because he started riding towards them.  
  
"Shit," she muttered underneath her breath.  
  
"Hey Raine," he said silkily as he pulled in , " You're just going horseback riding. Why don't you go put some real clothes on?"  
  
Raine looked at her tight leathers and fumed. This was decent, well, kind of. . .  
  
"Hey Daemon," she mimicked, "Why don't you stop being such a prick and mind your own business?"  
  
"Sorry, you got it wrong again. I'm Bastard."  
  
The feud between Consort and apprentice had developed into open animosity over the last two weeks. They no longer hid their feelings behind fake smiles and carefully chosen words. It had turned into verbal warfare, and there was always the threat of it becoming more physical day by day. Raine dwelled on all this when, unexpectedly, she heard a familiar voice in her head.  
  
*Do you want me to take care of him?* Torsh asked, quietly, a note of eagerness in his spear thread.  
  
*Aren't you protectors supposed to be preventing me from doing stupid stuff like that? Controlling my anger and everything? * Raine shot back, trying to push the kai' tori out of her mind. He obliged, but he was obviously very sullen about it. Out loud she said, "So you're riding alone? Couldn't charm Jaenelle with one of those smiles to come with you?"  
  
"Funny. Anyway, to answer your question, I invited Janelle but she already had promised to visit Aaron and Kalush. I'm only riding now because Glacia has one of the finest stocks of horses in Kaeleer, and I didn't want to miss the opportunity."  
  
"Right," Raine answered sweetly, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Well, see you around, unfortunately."  
  
"Ahhh. . .Love you too," Daemon answered, mocking her sweetness with a high-pitched voice.  
  
"Uh-huh," Chlandra added quickly, preparing to ride off with Raine, "Well. . .kiss kiss."  
  
A/N: Wow, there was definitely an over-usage of the 'rain' sound. Between Raine, rain, and rein. . .ah well. I think I made Daemon a little too petty this chapter, but I wanted to get the point across. Tell me if it sucked, honestly. Review please! 


	7. A Long-Expected Engagement

A/N: Alright, I finally am back with the next chapter AND I think I've got my "transition period" pretty well planned so hopefully the next ones will come in quicker. Also, I can't believe I didn't say anything about the distaff threads! Fortunately, upon rereading that chapter, I only said she sent a spear thread once, so if you could just mentally make the switch from spear to distaff, I would be grateful. Okay, well I think that basically sums everything up, oh and by the way, I don't own the black jewels trilogy.  
  
A Long-expected Engagement  
  
Months passed at SaDiablo Hall, bringing in the summer season. Things had settled into a comfortable routine, and Raine was beginning to view the Hall as her home and the people that lived in it as her family. And, slowly, she began to heal from the emotional scars that had been poisoning her soul before her role as Jaenelle's apprentice.  
  
Witch was holding a feast to welcome summer and, as was custom, al her guests were lounging in an informal setting beforehand, relaxing. . . well, almost all of them.  
  
"Where is she?" Jaenelle growled, "I told her not to go out tonight."  
  
Ever since she had learned how to ride the Winds, Raine had visited the city often. Being born and bred there, she had developed an addiction to that lifestyle, particularly the night life.  
  
"Relax," came Lucivar's reply, "Daemonar's over there, and she never goes alone, so she's here."  
  
It was true. Of all the second generation, Raine had bonded the best with the arrogant Eryien. A lot of factors had contributed to this friendship, but no one could really pin it on any particular thing. Maybe it was their equal competitiveness to be the best in the sword, or their habit of flirting with anything breathing and of the opposite sex, or even their similar mocking smiles of the world around them. That, and he was the only one that could decently hold his liquor.  
  
"True," Jaenelle admitted reluctantly, but the knowledge didn't seem to improve her mood any.  
  
And, as if on cue, the young witch entered, clothed in green silk. Giving her guests apologetic smiles Raine said, "Sorry I'm-"  
  
"Late," they echoed simultaneously, all at one point or another falling victim to her tardiness.  
  
"Err. . . yeah," she faltered, sliding closer to Jaenelle.  
  
Everyone laughed merrily and turned back to their conversations, and Raine took a seat next to her mentor.  
  
"Do I even want to know why you're late?" Jaenelle quipped at her, drumming her fingers on her chair.  
  
"Well, you see, it all started when-"  
  
"No," Surreal interrupted, "we'll be old women by the time she finishes explaining herself. Let's just be nice and tell her never to do it again."  
  
"Yeah. . .that'll happen," Lucivar grinned, pouring himself a drink.  
  
The conversation shifted then, giving Raine time to relax and gather her wits. She reflected on the conversationalists, remembering how she had compared them to family. Jaenelle and Surreal were her older sisters, each instilling the young witch with knowledge and advice, though the topics varied. Of all the "adults" she felt closest to them, as if she was able to discuss everything with them. . . though she never did.  
  
Lucivar was the older brother, nonchalant yet overprotective. He pushed her hard, always expecting her to be as good as she could possibly be. And Daemon, well he was an older brother type too, . . . the annoying older brother.  
  
And in return for their relationship services, she was the youngest member, to be shaped and molded by the best and worst of her "siblings" personalities. The system was complicated, but it worked well.  
  
Excusing herself, Raine went mingling, carefully avoiding Meghana's crowd, and conversed with her friends and acquaintances. She joked with Chlandra and Morton, teased and boasted with Daemonar and his friends, and finally went to visit Saetan who was in conversation with Falonar. She knew Falonar as being Surreal's on and off beau but other than that, he was a pretty cool guy. Seeing them shake hands, she assumed the conversation was over, and walked up to them.  
  
"I hear you have your first debate tomorrow," Falonar said to Raine with a knowing smile.  
  
"Yeah, I'm really excited," she answered nervously, "But I know I'm gonna say something stupid-"  
  
"Going to," Saetan corrected, "Not `gonna'; going to. You're going to say something stupid."  
  
"Ummm. . . yeah, going to. . . "  
  
After that, everyone was seated. It was a fairly uneventful dinner, save the fact that Raine and Daemon almost broke out into a food fight after continually throwing peas at each other. Nonetheless, no one feasting was expecting Surreal to rise out of her chair and start tapping on her glass with a fork.  
  
"If I could have everyone's attention," the assassin began, seemingly unaffected by at least 100 pairs of eyes studying her intently, "I'm sorry, it's just that I have an important announcement to make, and I wanted all of you to be here when I did."  
  
Surreal paused for effect and Raine shot a surprised look to Jaenelle, who matched her own shocked expression. Obviously, she hadn't been expecting this either.  
  
"I just wanted to inform you," and at this point her voice dropped to almost a whisper, "That I'm pregnant."  
  
There was a collective gasp from the audience and then complete silence. Raine was so stunned she couldn't even think. Pregnant? Surreal? Who was the father? Did it matter? Again, she looked at Jaenelle, but Witch was equally stunned and could make no response.  
  
Receiving no reaction, Surreal charged forth with maybe a shade less confidence than she previously had had, "Also, in light of recent circumstances, I have another announcement to make."  
  
The crowd, still reeling from her previous news, braced itself for another blow. Raine didn't think she could take anymore excitement, but she wouldn't miss this moment for the world.  
  
"I'm getting married," Surreal stated, and, had Raine not known better, she would have said Surreal actually seemed SHY about it. At that moment, Falonar came over to sit by his fiancée and, watching the two of them embrace, there was a power around them that could not be determined by castes or jewels, but simply by the two of them in love.  
  
Upon release, Surreal turned back to her silent shocked audience and said, "Well. . .uhh. . .that was it. Sorry to slow you down."  
  
As she sat, there was a pause of hesitation. But soon, Surreal was swarmed by friends and well-wishers. Raine stayed where she was, not wanting to be rushed in what she had to say to her friend, and instead turned to Jaenelle.  
  
"Aren't you simply ecstatic?" Raine practically shrieked, "this is the greatest news in the world!"  
  
"Yes," Jaenelle grinned, "I couldn't imagine better news to hear at a feast."  
  
Raine thought she detected a note of sadness in Witch's voice, but shrugged it away. Nothing was going to ruin this wonderful night. Catching sight of Saetan hanging on the fringes of Surreal's crowd, Raine shot him a smile. He returned it, a note of satisfaction present in his up-turned lips.  
  
"He knew," Raine realized with a start, "he knew the whole time! So that's what he and Falonar were talking about."  
  
Shrugging it away, she finally gave in to her excitement. Unable to keep her emotions to herself, she rushed to give her congratulations to Surreal.  
  
AN: So what do you think? Good? Bad idea? Oh, and suggestions on name and sex of Surreal's baby would be appreciated, as nothing is really planned yet.  
  
Reflection says: A little bit mushy, yet poignant. Did you notice how Raine only got one sentence in the chp w/o getting interrupted or trailing off? Okay, you don't care. . .I understand. Review please. 


	8. Debate

A/N: Okay, I know I said that the chapters would come more frequently, but honestly, could anyone have predicted the load of homework the teachers would be assigning? I didn't. But, finally, chp 8 is here. So yes, I acknowledge the fact that my previous statement was a load of s***. But hey, look on the bright side, Spring Break is coming and in-between the good clean fun I plan on having ::cough cough:: I hope to post at least another chp. in this story and maybe two more in the other. We'll see.  
  
Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure you guys have gotten the point. . .  
  
Saetan anxiously watched the sand slip out of the hourglass, grain by grain, and sighed deeply. Raine had just that much time to come and if she was late this time, she could not participate. Just once, she had better be on time. It was never good to be left out of any debate, but the especially the first one in what could be a thriving career.  
  
Putting a leash on his temper, the High Lord of Hell turned to face his five silent companions.  
  
"Does anyone have any questions before we begin?" he asked, trying to fill the empty silence with the sound of his own voice.  
  
"Yeah, I got one," Daemonar said, sitting up, "Why are we doing this, again?"  
  
"Because," Saetan clipped temperamentally, "All of you are from prominent families and one day, if the Darkness is merciful it will still long in coming, you will inherit your parents' positions. I have hypothesized that future quarrels will not be solved by force, as they were during you parents' time, but by words. It is therefore imperative that you, as heirs to positions of power, learn to effectively debate issues of the day. This gives you practice."  
  
They knew this, of course, but the High Lord repeated it anyway, at a loss of what to do.  
  
"Well, let us begin then," he said slowly watching the final grains slip through the small hourglass, when suddenly the door opened to admit in the object of his anxiety.  
  
"I'm not late, am I?" she asked delicately, "Because, you see, it's not my fault."  
  
Saetan replied, "No it's okay-"  
  
"'Cause Lucivar kept me after practice, and I TOLD him I had somewhere to be-"  
  
"Like I said it's-"  
  
"He said I incorporate too many gymnastics in my fighting, which he is clearly mistaken on-" she continued rapidly, oblivious to Daemonar's motions to shut up.  
  
"That's great now-"  
  
"And I said that I was just doing what I though was best-"  
  
"Okay anyway-"  
  
"Then he said that I jump around so much to balance out all the air in my head-"  
  
"If you could just-"  
  
"So naturally I couldn't let that stand."  
  
"Course not, if we could begin!" the irritation was growing in the High Lord's voice.  
  
"So then I tried to knock him down-"  
  
"Raine, it's okay!"  
  
"Do you know how hard it is to tackle an Eryien?"  
  
"RAINE!" the thunder exploded out of Saetan's voice, filling the chamber with coldness and dread. Raine instantly lapsed into silence, wiping any expression off her face.  
  
"Now," Saetan said, in control of himself once more, "Raine, you will join the team of Daemonar and Chlandra, who are debating against Meghana, Morton, and Luthvian. The issue today is whether the salt mines of Pruul should be closed for good. Daemonar's team will take the pro side, Morton's team the con. One minute to prepare."  
  
"Excuse me, High Lord," Meghana's simpery voice rose above the murmurs of her team, "But I believe Raine's team needs to be penalized for the tardiness of one of its members."  
  
Saetan's eyebrows arched in surprise at the witch's suggestion and he replied, "Well normally yes, but I don't believe that's necessary. Just because your parents don't require you to take any sort of physical defense doesn't mean that we can't be accommodating to other's schedules."  
  
The High Lord's answer seemed to satisfy everyone in the room, except Meghana of course. Catching the green-jeweled witch's look of contempt, Raine angrily rose from her chair and blurted, "Wait High Lord, I think the prude bitch has something to say."  
  
Five jaws dropped simultaneously at Raine's title of Meghana. Somewhere in the back of her brain, Raine regretted her rash action, but she was too fired up to care now.  
  
Meghana, however, wasn't as stunned as her companions and rose from her seat as well, amber eyes flashing. She quickly retorted, "Well I would rather be prude than a dirty, filthy, cheap, disgusting, slut!"  
  
The comment broke all of her self-control. Her life at that point would only be remembered in flashes. Like seeing Meghana's superior smirk, or the feeling of her hand curling into a fist. Or seeing herself storm over to her antagonist's table, or the touch of Daemonar trying to hold her back. Or maybe still when she saw her fist poised to strike and Meghana's face turn from confidence to shock. Then Meghana's feet were flying up behind her head and she was screaming, clutching an eye that was already swelling shut.  
  
Reality forced itself back onto Raine with amazing clarity. She stood, gazing in horror at the aftermath of her rage. Then, without hesitation, as if she'd meant to do it all along, she turned and swept into the hallway and out of the Hall.  
  
* Did you kill anyone yet?* Torsh's voice rang in her head. Over the months the two had become acquainted, the kai' tori had become very skilled at distinguishing her emotional states. He'd even gone so far as attempting to categorize some of them.  
  
* No! Go away!* Raine replied fiercely.  
  
* Have you let Meghana get to you again?* Torsh countered, ignoring her request.  
  
* Yeah. . .and this time I laid her out.*  
  
* Really?* the fire red dragon asked in surprise * Somebody's in trouble. . .*  
  
* No shit*  
  
* Hey, after you get forever banished from the Hall, I'll take you to Little Terrielle. It's the least I could do.*  
  
In spite of herself, Raine smiled * You better watch yourself, my friend, or people might start thinking you've become fond of me or something*  
  
* Yeah, don't mention it* he said, a sentence that could be interpreted two ways.  
  
Still fuming, and still feeling ashamed, Raine ended up at the training arena. Lucivar was in a practice pit, putting the equipment away. Feeling the urge to kill something, she picked up the practice sword that was coincidentally at her feet.  
  
"Hey Lucivar," she called, giving her opponent, and the target of her anger, barely enough notice before her attack. She charged into him, only mildly surprised that he was able to block her.  
  
"Raine, you know I'm always excited to see you putting extra time into your weapons, but aren't you supposed to be in debate?  
  
"Yeah," she grunted, blocking a cleave, "but stupid Meghana! She's just so. . .so. . .so. . .YOU know."  
  
"Not you?" he supplied, smoothly maneuvering around the pit.  
  
"umm. . .I was thinking 'evil' but I guess that works too."  
  
Her momentary distraction cost her dearly. Lucivar easily slipped past her defense and "stabbed" her in the stomach. She pushed him away and began her attack anew. Lucivar patiently dueled with her, drawing out her anger and excess energy. Eventually exhausted, she collapsed onto the ground. . . until Lucivar reminded her to clean up her equipment.  
  
Grumbling sulkily under her breath, she put her practice sword away and straightened up the rack weights she practiced with. Finishing her task, Raine left the supplies area and as surprised to see Morton nearby, practicing with a bow.  
  
"What happened to the debate?" she asked softly, walking up to him.  
  
"It was called due to bloodshed," he replied smoothly, but looking upon her stricken face, he gave her a small smile, "Don't worry too much about it. Janelle was pretty upset when she found out, but Daemonar explained the circumstances."  
  
"That was nice of him," she said quietly, watching him nock another arrow. There was an awkward pause between the two as they watched Morton sink arrows into the center of the target.  
  
"She should not have said that about you," Morton stated, for the first time giving her all of his attention.  
  
Raine nodded her appreciation, unable to speak, and instead remained where she stood, watching the Dea al Mon prince's smooth grace as he accurately fired arrow after arrow.  
  
"I'm surprised you haven't left yet," she said, at last breaking the silence, "Normally after a debate everyone's running in the opposite direction."  
  
"My mother is still talking to Jaenelle," he answered, a catch in his voice, "I can't leave until she's done."  
  
"She's been doing that a lot lately, is everything all right?"  
  
"Of course, why wouldn't it be?" he replied, not meeting her gaze. Another arrow hit.  
  
I don't know. I was just concerned. After all, it's not up to me to solve your problems."  
  
His back straightened then and he gave her another small tight smile, "You really want to know?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Morton paused in consideration and then, carefully setting down his bow, he sat down in the grass motioning her to sit beside him.  
  
The Dea al Mon are a fiercely independent people, we rarely, if ever, accept help from outsiders," he began with a sight, "This is upheld because we've always been lead by a strong ruler. . . a strong Queen, more precisely."  
  
Raine nodded in understanding and he continued, "But now a crisis has fallen upon my people that they never would've expected. . . I was born," Morton paused and, seeing her look of confusion, explained further, "The Dea al Mon want a Queen, they expect a Queen, and as is obvious, I can never be a Queen. That means the rulership would leave my family and pass on to the strongest jeweled witch in the territory."  
  
"I see," Raine said at last.  
  
"But there's more," Morton persisted, "The Queen of the Dea al Mon is meant to be the strongest of her people, and, if my people choose a new family to take the throne, their new witch would not be stronger than me. Therefore, some. . . radicals who are quickly gaining support, have proposed my exile."  
  
Raine sat in consideration, letting the full weight of Morton's words sink in. She carefully analyzed everything he had said. . .and hadn't. When she spoke again, her eyes locked on to the Dea al Mon's and held them in her cool, frosty gaze.  
  
"I could help you, you know," she whispered softly, so quietly that the words died almost as soon as they'd left her lips.  
  
"How?" Morton immediately responded.  
  
Her lips turned up into a mocking smile, similar to the one that continuously crossed Daemonar's face, and asked, "Do you really want to know?"  
  
"Yes," he said, again no hesitation.  
  
"I will help you gain the throne of the Dea al Mon; openly throwing my support behind you. The name of Witch's Heir has some immense weight to it, and with the aid of that name you will surely be pronounced the heir of the Dea al Mon people."  
  
Morton thought about it, rolling the pros and cons over and over again in his mind. Finally he replied, "An intriguing offer. But what does the Lady want in return?"  
  
Raine grinned, and said softly, putting emphasis on each word, "When you are the Warlord Prince, I want your promise that you will support me. For you see, I too go after a throne. . .that of Ebon Askavi."  
  
"It can not be done!" Morton protested, letting his voice rise, "only Witch can be Queen of the Black Mountain and you are not she!"  
  
"Who is to say whom can and can not claim Ebon Askavi?" Raine responded, allowing a deliberate calm to dominate her voice, "The one true Witch has announced a one true Heir, something never before done, I know, I've looked. Why then is it so unreasonable that the Heir should claim what her mentor had to give up?"  
  
Morton shook his head, finally bringing the true question into light, "And once you're Queen? Then what? Will I gain the throne of my people only to be forced to swear fealty for the Queen of Ebon Askavi?"  
  
Raine felt her temper slipping, "Oh? So now you think me evil, Dea al Mon prince? You think that I would use my title to create a tyranny, is that what you think of me? Speak! Has it yet crossed your mind that maybe I would do it for Kaeleer, for the land that gave me opportunity when I should have had none? For is it not true that a Queen in the seat of the Black Mountain represents a united Kaeleer and a united Kaeleer is invincible?"  
  
"I think it's a little of both," he answered evenly, "but all the same there is truth in what you say. And no, I do not think you are evil, but through you great evil could be wielded," he sighed again, "But what choice do I have? I will join forces with you, if you would have me."  
  
Keeping her face carefully neutral she said, "We have an agreement then?"  
  
"We do."  
  
He offered his hand to her and she responded eagerly, exchanging a firm clasp of the hands.  
  
"For the future of the Dea al Mon," Morton murmured into the soft breeze that swirled around the two.  
  
"For the continual peace of Kaeleer," Raine chimed in, releasing her hand. The setting sun slanted into her green eyes, revealing the fires of potential that burned inside her mind. The rising moon, pregnant with silvery light, hit the eyes of the Dea al Mon prince, giving his desperation a new blinding look.  
  
"You may not have the best debate skills," he said at last, "But let it never be said you weren't ambitious."  
  
Reflection says: The plot thickens. . .wait there was a plot? When did that happen? Oh well. 


	9. Rebirth

A/N: Alright, you know what, I'm not even going to feed you any lines of bull-shit that I'm going to post quickly and everything because just when I think I'll be able to find the time to produce a semi-decent chp. the world ends up in total chaos. So as a result, this chapter in itself probably won't be that great either but. . .you know. If you don't like it I'll come and. . .grease your handle bars.  
  
At the southernmost point of Terrielle, where the ocean spray first collides with the sandy beach, there is an old stone castle that was rumored to be a fortress. But any man, living or dead had long forgot the war it would have been used in. There were rumors among the landen villages that spoke of this old castle, whispers repeated among the villagers that explained why the shadows lining the old walls were so unnaturally dark, or why after more than twenty centuries the castle was still in perfect shape. Many believed that it was a prison for the undead, souls that would not be reborn in the Darkness or become demon dead would be sent there to fulfill the sentences for their evil. If they only knew the truth. . .there were worse things than ghosts that stalked the night.  
  
As a small sliver of moonlight lit an inner chamber of the old fortress, one of the shadows that cloaked the room detached itself from the others. It was darker that the night that had conceived it, and the other shadows seemed to retreat in fear. The shadow stepped into the elusive light and waited. As the full moon struck it directly, human qualities appeared. Smooth white skin, ebony hair, and the mysterious glowing red eyes all were evident on what was once a mere shadow. The new-made man surveyed his surroundings with hungry desire and an unsatisfiable curiosity. He studied his hands, his skin, touched his lips, all with an ecstasy that not even the most pleasant experiences could match. The human body was a marvel to him, of course he had not been human in over twenty thousand years.  
  
Finally reminding himself of the other duties that awaited him, the man turned to the men who had served him faithfully. They could not yet know that they had been played with, the destruction and chaos that would follow because of their actions this night, because, for now, he needed them, as much as he despised to admit it.  
  
"Robe me," he hissed into the night and, as if his absence had never been noted, men, different from the ones he had left twenty centuries ago, yet foolishly alike, stepped forth to answer his desires.  
  
"My Lord," one of the young aristocrats who had funded this little venture stepped forth. He was not Blood, not part of the ancient enemy that had imprisoned him for all these years, but he was brash, arrogant, and easily duped, "My Lord, all the orders you have given have been carried out with perfection. You will find everything you need has already been taken into account, all the pawns you mentioned have been put into play. If you are not too exhausted from your . . .err. . .transformation, I would like to discuss some business prospects with you-"  
  
The man paid no attention to the youth, there were more important prospects to consider. There was only one pawn's progress he was interested in, but what he needed now was information other than the bits and pieces he had heard from his ignorant servants on this part of the Veil. He stormed past the courtyard where he had been reborn and followed from his memory that was twenty centuries old, the path to the throne room, leaving his servants gaping in confusion including the stuttering aristocrat.  
  
As he had expected, the young man followed him, determined to get some answers at the very least. The shadow man sat upon the throne that had been cleaned for his arrival and smirked with chilling, bloodless lips at the audacity of his young follower. The aristocrat shrank back from the gesture, all thoughts leaving him at that particular moment.  
  
"Now," he spoke, his voice colder than ice, "Tell me that the spy we hired has made it into SaDiablo Hall."  
  
"Al-almost my m-master," he stammered, dropping to his knees, "W-we have paid a generous sum to her to m-make sure s-she succeeds. I-is there an-anything else that m-mi-might please you my m-master?"  
  
The man retreated into the shadows of his throne, the only light coming from the strange glowing eyes. One test, he thought smiling to himself, a test to see how potent my powers are after centuries in retirement.  
  
"Yes," he hissed, in a somehow teasing whisper, "It would please me for you to die."  
  
"But master!" he shrieked in protest, "I have done everything you have asked me to do, I have made it possible for you to return, I have ordered men to their death just to make this night possible, but I have done nothing to displease you!"  
  
He sobbed on the cold stone floor, realizing how futile his protests were, now understanding, at the end, the fate he had brought upon the realms.  
  
"You will not be obedient to your master and do as your told?" the shadow man laughingly demanded, "Then allow me to assist you in following out orders."  
  
The youth screamed as darkness entered him, poisoning his blood, chrushing his organs. Warm sticky blood oozed from his mouth smattering on his fine coat and breeches. Within minutes, he was dead.  
  
The man used tendrils of air to throw the broken corpse against the wall, to be used later as an example of what it meant to disobey an order, and of what the price would be for failure. The night paid homage to the kill, swallowing it with shadows until it was all but out of sight. His demon eyes danced with the darkness that had extinguished the youth's life, and he threw his head up to once again rejoice in the sweet feel of the night air caressing his skin. And the dark responded, ready to await the call of its prince. It was anxious, it had been dormant for too long, and he smiled in pleasure as he again took his throne. An ominous, and almost maniacal, laugh escaped his lips, letting the world know the Night Prince had returned.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Draca's reptilian eyes flew open as she awoke from her sleep. She could still feel the darkness that had besieged her mind and hear the laughter that had tormented her dreams for hundreds of years. She knew then that she and Lorn had guessed wrong; even after centuries of experience they had underestimated their ancient enemy who was as cunning as he was ruthless. Rumors had circulated, fearful whispers that a rebirth could occur, and she had disposed of the small group of followers who had boldly talked about reviving the Night Prince. She realized now that that group had simply been a decoy, placed there to make her think she and Lorn had eliminated the potential threat. It was obvious now that the ancient pair had never even come close to catching the ones who would plunge the world into a second darkness.  
  
Draca felt her old bones shrink with despair and she cursed herself for being so foolish. Now all the free people of Jaenelle's Purge would suffer for her folly. How could she have easily fallen for the trap and not even suspect anything until a couple of moments ago? She knew she had to find Lorn.  
  
The Keep's Sentchel flew among the old tomes of literature, all useless. One sight, however, made her pause. Raine had fallen asleep on a book, her fiery tresses spread across the pages protectively. Draca shook her head, knowing she was studying a book on government after the time of Witch. The apprentice had been sleeping here every day for a week. Draca also knew of the girl's dream to be Queen of Ebon Askavi, the ambition practically rolled from her body in waves. She would need all of it against the coming threat.  
  
Draca ran out in the foreboding, no longer safe, night. She began to change forms when a noise in the brush startled her.  
  
"Oh don't let me disturb you," Torsh snorted flame in amusement, "I've never seen a transformation before."  
  
Draca was startled that she hadn't been able to see the kai'tori, but didn't allow herself to dwell on it.  
  
"You would do well turn the other way," she remarked sullenly. There was no hissing on her part now; they were speaking in a language known by no mortal for many, many years. The fierce predator did not turn the other way, but faced her squarely.  
  
"It has begun then," he said sadly, "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this."  
  
"Torsh listen to me," Draca said fiercely, pinning him down with her gaze, "You, Lorn, and I are the only ones who know about the impending threat, and you only know because you were told. I am going to Lorn now to see what must be done, but there is one thing I know for certain. The threat to you and your charge will increase dramatically. You must be careful, our enemies must not catch her. If you do not want the responsibility-"  
  
"Draca, don't even speak like that," he cut her off, though she was his superior, "I would gladly lay down my life for that girl, not just because she's a charge, but as a friend."  
  
"Torsh," Draca exclaimed, alarmed, "You are meant to be a silent stalker, not a friend. If she becomes too attached to you, and you die, she will be too distraught to do what must be done. Think about the repercussions of what you do! It is forbidden-"  
  
"I know Draca," he interrupted again, "Trust me, you have nothing to fear."  
  
Eyeing him cautiously, she dismissed him from her mind and disappeared into the unforgiving night. 


End file.
